


Home is Where the Heart Is

by lovetheblazer



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Domestic Fluff, M/M, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent Prompt #9: The boys decorating a Christmas tree and each has a very different view on how it should be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Day 9 of the Advent Challenge I'm doing daily through Christmas Eve. Prompts have been anonymously submitted by my followers.

“Ooh, I'll get it. I think that's my package!” Darren announces excitedly, bounding off Chris's couch at the sound of the doorbell.

Chris is puzzled but doesn't comment right away. It wouldn't be the first time Darren's had some rare vinyl album or odd musical instrument shipped to Chris's place instead of his own. There's a weird logic to it ( _sometimes_ ) since Chris spends most of his days at home writing and Darren prefers to bounce from place to place, living out of suitcase at least six months out of the year.

He's expecting Darren to come back with a small parcel from Amazon, not a gigantic box, however. “Did you get  _another_  guitar? I'm entering you in a twelve step program, if so,” Chris groans

“Nope, it's even better! And just in time for our holiday decorating,” Darren says, dropping the box to the floor in front of the couch with a quiet grunt. Curiously, it jingles.

“ _Our_  decorating, huh? Did you move in recently and forget to tell me?” Chris teases, tilting his head to one side as he watches Darren strip the packing tape from the box.

“Home is where the heart is, baby,” Darren replies. It's not really an answer. “I spend most nights that I'm in Los Angeles at your place already, let's be real. And my house is just...”

“...mainly a sparsely furnished vault for your musical instruments?” Chris finishes for him.

“Yeah that, among other things. Yours is more... homey. But anyways, I've been in kind of a funk lately and not feeling the holiday spirit as much as usual, so I asked my mom to send me some stuff to help with that,” Darren explains, carefully opening the box flaps. “Come see.”

Chris pouts. “Can it come to me? My lap is kinda... occupied right now,” he says, gesturing towards Cooper's head resting on his thigh and his laptop sitting on his opposite knee.

Darren rolls his eyes fondly and carefully slides the box over to Chris's feet. Chris cranes his neck, catching quick glimpses of red and green felt, several pinecones, candy canes, and what seems to be a truckload of glitter. “Oh my...” he manages. “What exactly do we have here?”

“All my old Christmas ornaments! You know, the ones I made when I was in preschool and elementary school and stuff. Ah, good times,” Darren reminisces.

“Your parents actually kept all that junk for like, twenty something years?” Chris asks bluntly. His mom and dad were never that sentimental. The best of Hannah's art and his stories would make it to the refrigerator, but pretty much all their other craft projects were quickly “recycled” into the trash. It never really bothered Chris, though. He found it strangely reassuring even as a small child that his parents had  _standards_. It meant that if one of his stories made it to the refrigerator or mantel of honor, he had really achieved something. He's pretty sure them being his earliest critics helped him develop his writing voice and the work ethic that's served him so well in the publishing industry.

“It's not junk,” Darren insists, looking genuinely hurt.

“Sorry,” Chris shakes his head regretfully. “ _Junk_ wasn't the right word. I just... well, you've seen how ruthless my mom is about order and space. I'd be shocked if she's kept more than two things I made her as a child.”

Darren softens. “Yeah okay, I get that. Basically, the way it worked in our house is that our family had two Christmas trees. There was a fancy one that sat in front of the window that could be seen from the road and it was always decorated like a department store one with matching ribbons and balls and lights. Then, there was the family one in our den that had a big mishmash of ornaments made by Chuck and I plus silly ornaments we would get each other as gag gifts at family get togethers. But now that it's just my mom and dad, they didn't feel like bothering with two trees so my mom sent me some of my favorite ornaments.”

Chris looks longingly at the eight foot spruce sitting in the corner of his living room, just waiting to be decorated. He's already purchased all the lights and ornaments so that it will match his living room décor and everything color coordinates. He takes a deep breath, then asks the question he thinks he already knows the answer to. “So, what's your plan for all the ornaments? Are you getting a tree at your place this year?”

“Nah, it hardly seems worth it when I'm barely ever there. I got the ornaments for you! Or us, really,” Darren explains, though there's a hesitance in his tone that tells Chris he's at least aware the idea might not be well-received.

Chris takes a long moment to consider how to reply. He's aware that Darren's not been having the easiest go of things lately and the last thing he wants to do is be the Grinch who tramples all over his Christmas spirit. On the other hand, Chris has a bunch of friends coming over for a holiday party next week and having a bunch of ornaments made by a childhood Darren on display is not a detail they can really expect everyone to overlook.

“I think it's really sweet that your mom kept all these things and wanted to share them with you. And I definitely want to find the right spot for them, I just don't think the main tree can be it? They don't really match with the other ornaments I got for the tree and more importantly, we invited people to our holiday party who might see those ornaments and think we're living together.”

“Would that be so bad? I don't give a fuck what people think about us,” Darren responds defiantly.

“Yes, you do... That's kind of the whole point, Darren,” Chris sighs.

“Low blow,” Darren murmurs, eyes suddenly distant.

Chris picks up his laptop and sets it on the coffee table. Then, he scoots over far enough that he can drop his head to Darren's shoulder. Darren relaxes into the embrace, releasing a heavy sigh of his own. “Look, I'm just being a realist. We've talked about this. It'll happen one day. One day soon, I hope, but for now we have to stick to the plan. And in the meantime, I'll get a second tree and we can put your ornaments on it, okay? Just like your parents did at home. It can be a new tradition.”

“And where would you propose we put this tree, exactly?” Darren hums.

“Uh, the laundry room?” Chris retorts. Darren shoots him an affronted look. “Oh my god, I'm  _kidding_ ,” he reassures.

“You better be,” Darren pouts.

“But yeah, I don't know where we put it. My bedroom, maybe? Or the study? I'm open to suggestions.”

“The study is good. I like the idea of you getting to see our tree while you're writing,” Darren agrees. He leans down and rummages around in the box for a moment. “Because who wouldn't want to stare at this face all day every day?” he jokes, holding up an ornament.

Chris takes it from him, laughing. It's a red construction paper ornament cut into the shape of Santa Claus's head, complete with hat. In the center of the ornament where Santa's face would normally be, there's a picture of Darren as a small child. And underneath the chin, he's glued cotton balls in the vague shape of a white beard. “Aww, that's adorable. How old are you here?”

“I'm thinking four? Pretty sure that was an ornament I made in preschool, not kindergarten,” Darren responds.

“Well, that's a relief, because your cutting and pasting skills then were just abysmal,” Chris wryly critiques.

“Hey now! I'll have you know I was in the fiftieth percentile among all four year olds in rudimentary arts and crafts skills. Sorry if we can't all be prodigies with crayons and scissors like you apparently were as a child,” Darren mock huffs.

“You're ridiculous. And I love you, even if you can't glue cotton balls in a beard shape to save your life,” Chris giggles.

"Love you too," Darren replies, nuzzling Chris's shoulder.

“Feeling a bit more festive now?”

“Yeah,” Darren smiles. “It's always good to come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Share fic on Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/134904678915/home-is-where-the-heart-is)
> 
> Read Previous Advent Fics on: [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Advent_Fics_by_lovetheblazer) or [Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/tagged/advent-fics-by-lovetheblazer)


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